


One, All In Black [+Podfic]

by xinasvoice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Public Sex, Short One Shot, Sirius Black in lipstick, more a speed hump than a slow burn, things escalate quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28939722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xinasvoice/pseuds/xinasvoice
Summary: It’s All Hallow’s Eve. Sirius is dressed all in black, and it’s driving Remus a little bit insane. The lipstick isn’t helping.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 28
Kudos: 238





	One, All In Black [+Podfic]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kristarfweefweexd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristarfweefweexd/gifts).



> Podfic duration: 36min  
> .m4a audio file ~ [.m4b audiobook file](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1q11bihGV8tdQlyTmmzu0f-6XZpYttS8N/view?usp=sharing)
> 
> Ending music is [Delta (Little Boy Blues)](https://music.apple.com/us/album/delta-little-boy-blues/310996089?i=310996262) by Badly Drawn Boy
> 
> Thank you to beta reader [ForeverShippingJohnlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverShippingJohnlock/works), who appreciates and encourages all of my filthy ideas more than anyone.
> 
> Gifted to Kristarfweefweexd because they once called one of my works "depraved," and I still feel so honored.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/158228914@N03/50867296656/in/dateposted-public/)

“Hey Moons, whatcha doing?” Sirius flopped down next to Remus on the common room couch, long hair flying out to rest in one perfect waterfall over his far shoulder. Remus eyed the way the layers framed Sirius’ already excessively attractive profile resentfully.

It was All Hallows Eve, and the party in the Gryffindor common room was tumbling around them, good-natured and wild. Sirius wasn’t in costume, but he was dressed all in black, and it was driving Remus a little bit insane. The tight, black jeans with strategic horizontal rips were something Sirius wore on a regular basis, but repeat exposure had not made Remus immune to them. At least at the moment Sirius was sitting down. The way they hugged his body was much harder to tolerate when he was standing up, or walking around, or…dancing. Especially dancing. Especially from behind.

He was wearing a loose shirt that hardly deserved the name, for the amount of coverage it gave. It was long enough to skate over his hips, but there were no sleeves to cover the new—black—tattoos Sirius had gotten over the summer, and the armholes were hugely oversized, wide and long enough to show glimpses of Sirius’ torso whenever he moved. The effect was kind of like an oven door flapping open and shut, judging by the way the glimspes of Sirius’ chest and back within the secretive drape of black fabric made Remus go hot all over every time.

The worst part, though, by _far_ , was the lipstick. It wasn’t lip gloss or tinted lip balm like Sirius had been known to experiment with, it was _lipstick_ , and it was a pure, stark, shining black. It was perfectly applied, of course, and the creamy coating shouted to everyone around how exquisitely shaped Sirius’ lips actually were. Remus couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop looking. He definitely couldn’t get up from the couch or move the notebook that he had placed strategically over his lap, but fortunately no one expected him to.

‘He tried to romance the whomping willow,’ was how James had casually explained Remus’ aches and visible bruises to the alarmed looks of the other students this month. It was adjacent to the truth. The wolf and the whomping willow were, after all, close neighbors. Remus had insisted on attending the party anyways, and the other Marauders had aggressively claimed the best couch in the common room in his honor. They had been bringing him tributes of blankets, hot drinks, and snacks all evening. It was sweet, actually, and also highly convenient considering he had been hard since Sirius had first swanned into the room in this horrifically attractive getup.

The sheen of sweat on Sirius’ skin from all the vigorous dancing wasn’t helping, and neither was the vigorous dancing itself. At least, given his current situation, it was somewhat expected for Remus to be people-watching. Hopefully it wasn’t obvious that his people-watching was more like _person_ -watching, singular.

Sirius raised one hand to brush his hair back, unnecessarily, and Remus’ eyes were drawn to the tips of his fingers. He expected the usual, slightly chipped, black polish, but to his surprise Sirius’ nails were bare. The black polish would have made sense with the whole look, and its absence was stark and obvious to Remus’ eyes. Sirius’ fingers looked small and vulnerable like this. Compared to the rest of him, they seemed naked, like an invitation. Remus wanted to touch them. He wanted to put them in his mouth. Powerful, brain-consuming waves of desire tingled up and down his spine, like Sirius’ fingers were dragging over his skin, slipping between his lips.

Eventually he managed to pull his mind out of the gutter enough to answer Sirius’ question.

“I’m taking bets on how many people will have your lipstick on them by the end of the night.”

Remus spared a moment to internally congratulate himself on how even his voice sounded. Fuck, he was good at this whole pretending-not-to-be-overcome-with-lust thing. His tone sounded like it was dripping with sarcasm and completely hid that he was, in fact, just…actually dripping. He surreptitiously arranged the blanket so it, as well as the notebook, covered his lap more thoroughly, and had to trust that his face was as good at hiding things as his voice was.

Sirius laughed and leaned towards him a bit, pursing his glossy, black lips in a showy way, clearly proud of his look. It was deserved.

“Would you like to place a bet?” Remus continued, trying to make his eyes look _anywhere_ else. It wasn’t really fair for Sirius to bet on something he had so much control over, but Remus didn’t care.

“Yeah. One.” There was an unusual light in Sirius’ gray eyes. It was probably just the eyeliner. Fuck, he was wearing eyeliner. Remus would have to sit on this couch until two in the morning.

Remus raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Are you sure? Once I announce this bet, which I definitely will, people are going to bet higher. You could be making out with half the school with that kind of incentive. Aiming for only one would be quite the missed opportunity.”

Sirius just raised one slender, nail-polish-nude finger, expression unreadable, and repeated, "One."

Remus shrugged and turned to a new page in his notebook, writing down Sirius’ bet and his perception of the odds on it. They weren’t good. Sirius didn’t seem to mind. He put down five galleons and then hopped off the couch to return to the rest of the party.

Word got around. People came over in pairs and groups to place their bets, most of them on higher numbers, which Remus gave better odds. Sirius looked amazing. He was definitely going to see some action tonight.

There were now dozens of people with a financial incentive to kiss Sirius, in addition to the usual incentives. Remus’ sexual frustration was through the roof, but it was also hilarious and—on the scale of a Marauder’s prank—good clean fun to watch Sirius dodging people’s lips left and right. There were also a few people taking a more direct approach, trying to get their hands or other parts of their bodies to brush against Sirius’ mouth in a more platonic way, but the truth was, Sirius looked hot as fuck. People _wanted_ an excuse to flirt with him, to grind up against him as they danced. Sirius let them, obviously loving all the attention, but he kept his mouth out of range, looking over at Remus frequently as if to check if he was still keeping track.

He was.

Remus wasn’t officially betting himself, but he found himself rooting for the crowd of lip-fixated students. Maybe that made him a voyeur and a pervert, but he desperately wanted to see Sirius make out with _someone_ with that lipstick on. He wanted to see the perfection of it smeared around, wanted to see the way Sirius’ tongue would dart out, starkly pink against the black. He _was_ going to get to see it, he realized. Sirius would want him to witness it, for the sake of securing his win. The thought was enough to make Remus entertain wild thoughts of jerking himself off, right here, under the minimal cover of the blankets. He resisted, but barely.

Fortunately for the state of his dignity, it wasn’t long before people had caught on to the idea of him as a booker, and he was taking bets of all sorts. A lot of them were on who would sneak off with who, but there were more amusing ones as well. Remus’ favorite was how many different things would get caught in James’ magically enhanced, three-foot-diameter afro before midnight. He already had several streamers, candy wrappers, and a pair of someone’s lacy panties up there. Focusing on these other bets became a very effective strategy for managing the demands of Remus’ erection, and he welcomed the distraction in between keeping his eyes locked on Sirius’ glistening mouth from across the room.

This could be his future, Remus mused, as people came over to him to place bet after bet. He would graduate from Hogwarts and start a career in gambling. It was the perfect occupation for a werewolf who wasn’t terribly impressive at anything in particular. He liked the vantage point, too, involved in everything but at a slight, safe distance. And it didn’t even matter how the bets turned out, he would still make money on it. He could get rich. After a while, he got the brilliant idea that every person that made a bet would have to deliver him a piece of candy as a booking fee, and that made it even better.

Candy wrappers piled up on the couch next to him as the evening wore on. One by one, the bets came to fruition (James’ hair capped out at twenty-seven suspended or draped items). People lost money, except for the few who didn’t, and Remus made a killing. Eventually, the only bet left on the table was Sirius’. It had been almost five hours, and most people were ready for the party to wind down, but they didn’t want to leave until this final, most valuable bet was called. So far, only James, who had bet on zero, stood to earn any money. Remus suspected Sirius had persuaded James to make that long-shot bet, as the result was that James was instrumental in keeping people away from Sirius' lips. He was often to be seen slinging a subtle tripping charm at the people who tried to sneak up to smack their hands over Sirius mouth. They were a team, as usual.

It was nearly one in the morning and Sirius’ lipstick was just as flawless as it had been at the beginning of the night. He hadn’t even smeared it by eating or drinking, which was wise because there were people hovering around him, ready to snatch up the second-hand color that would appear on any bottle of butterbeer his lips touched and smear it on themselves. Sirius refrained from eating entirely and he only drank by pouring the liquid through the air into his open mouth, a messy, obscene display that made Remus want to scream and hump his hips against his poor notebook every time.

Finally, when Lily was hovering around her record player with the air of someone who was too tired for this fuckery and was about to take her music back to her room, Sirius came over to flop back onto the couch, overlapping Remus’ curled-up feet slightly. Remus felt the weight of Sirius’ thighs under the blankets and did his best not to turn into a pile of lustful salt, in the manner of one who had been eye-fucking Sodom and Gomorrah for half the night.

“Well?” Sirius asked, as if he wasn’t more aware than anyone of how many people his lips had touched. Or hadn’t touched, in this case.

“You’re still in the running,” Remus informed him with a heroic impression of calm. “But by my count, you’re at zero, so you haven’t won yet. I admit, I’m impressed with your self-control.”

“Are you?” Sirius smiled in a lazy way and leaned back against the couch, legs splayed wide, feet sticking out into other people’s personal space. He was panting a bit, which made sense considering the energy he had been exerting towards dancing with Sasha Prewitt a few minutes ago. His spread position and the maddeningly tight jeans also showed off that he wasn’t entirely soft. Remus ignored the frantic screaming of his libido and unwrapped another piece of candy. If his mouth couldn’t have Sirius’ cock, then it could damn well have cheap chocolate.

“Are you drunk?” Sirius asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Remus shook his head and popped the chocolate into his mouth, angling his full notebook up for Sirius to see. “Can’t. I’m working here. Making a fortune.”

Sirius grinned. “Good. Me neither.”

Remus paused in the midst of unwrapping another piece of candy, unsure what that was supposed to signify. Sirius’ tone implied that it signified _something_ , but Remus was puzzled as to what that could be. Then he felt Sirius’ hand on his elbow.

Remus’ lust was already tuned to such a tight, high pitch that even this casual and surely entirely platonic touch made the chocolate fly out of his fingers, landing somewhere in the crowd of people that was, for the most part, watching Sirius just as much as Remus himself had been. Meanwhile, Sirius’ fingers were sliding over his arm to the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow. The touch was silky-soft and distinctly intentional. It didn’t feel platonic at all. It _felt_ like Sirius was fucking him into the couch.

Remus glanced over at Sirius, who was looking out at the room, but he was wearing a small smile, his whole face tight with excitement, like he was in the middle of hiding during a prank, like he was pressed against a wall, just around the corner from McGonagall and discovery. Remus couldn’t help it. His eyes were glued to the shiny, black swell of Sirius’ lips, the rest of him frozen in place.

Sirius’ fingers reached Remus’ wrist, and, slowly, he picked up Remus’ arm with that sure grip. Remus was entirely limp—except for the part of him that _wasn’t_ —so his arm went easily as Sirius pulled it up to his perfect, obscene mouth and carefully pressed his lips to the soft skin of Remus’ wrist.

It was like being dipped in fire. Remus felt his whole body heating and flushing, with Sirius’ lips serving as the epicenter. His cock twitched, and when Sirius let go of his wrist a moment later, Remus’ arm hovered there in front of his mouth for an embarrassing moment, begging for more without his permission. Dreamily, he pulled it back into his own personal space and looked at the perfect, curved imprint of Sirius’ lips that had been stamped there. It was starkly black against his pale skin, like the tattoos on Sirius’ biceps. Remus wanted to ink it there forever in the same manner.

“Huh,” was the only thing he could say. He stared at the perfect shape of Sirius’ lips on his skin for a long, long moment, and then only gradually let his eyes drift back to the source of the color.

Sirius was watching him, gray eyes bright and knowing, and suddenly Remus knew what Sirius knew, and it was a dense, heady knowledge.

Sirius wanted him.

Sirius had been playing him all evening. He hadn’t made out with anyone yet because _Remus_ was the ‘one’ of Sirius’ bet. He had been since the beginning. And he would be the only one, too, because that was what Sirius had bet, not ‘You and then six others,’ just, ‘One.’

“One.” That word floated to the surface of Remus’ brain, and Sirius’ lips seemed to float in his vision. Fuck, he was’t drunk, but it sure felt like it.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, his smile blooming wider. “One.”

He leaned in, his face coming tantalizingly close to Remus’ own as he reached across his body for his other hand. He brought this up to his lips as well, but this time the kiss was more dimensional, lips parting, teeth nibbling at Remus' wrist and trailing down to his palm. Remus’ breath caught in his throat at the delicious, hot swipe of Sirius’ tongue on his skin, and when Sirius drew back there was no tidy imprint this time, just a smear of dark color on Remus’ wrist and palm, trailing down to the tip of one finger, as if he had dragged his hand across the darkest pastel in an artist’s palate.

He looked back up at Sirius’ face to see that the black lipstick was now, _finally_ , smeared, just a small section of it on his lower lip, but it was enough to make Remus sigh quietly with lust.

Sirius bit that lip in a way that said he was well aware Remus was watching and pivoted on the couch, swinging one leg across so he was straddling Remus’ hips. Remus gasped, feeling the hot weight of Sirius on him, the slide of Sirius’ hands as they curved around his neck. His own hands came to rest, shaking, on Sirius’ black-denim-clad knees. He was only vaguely aware of the many people around them watching, whispering, wondering how this development would affect their bets. They all seemed far away, as if Remus was suspended in some alternate universe where the only thing of importance was Sirius. All that mattered was the hot, heavy press of his thighs, the knowing, excited curve of his dark lips slowly leaning in closer and closer.

Remus had been going mad with the thought of that lipstick all fucking evening, and he had been going mad for Sirius for many months before this. He craned his neck up, trying to bring this moment, this kiss, out of his future and into his present as soon as possible.

The moment came, and Remus nearly did as well. He felt the soft touch of Sirius’ lips on his own and suddenly his heart was pounding in his chest, his blood doing its best to zip through his body at unnatural speeds. This whole situation seemed vaguely unreal, but Sirius’ mouth was the most _real_ thing he had ever felt. His lips were soft and eager, sending a dozen clear messages that Remus had somehow been entirely oblivious to up until now. They were messages of lust and yearning—of _love_ , even—and Remus read them all, belatedly, eating them up, pulling them into himself with his lips, his teeth, his tongue.

He could even feel the lipstick, which he had not expected. It was creamy and slightly sticky, growing more slick with each moment as the kiss turned more heated. Remus imagined how it must look now, how he himself must look, with the color smudged haphazardly between them, and moaned into Sirius’ open mouth. Sirius moaned back, and Remus felt suddenly reckless, all his logic and inhibitions driven away by the sweet, unholy smear of Sirius’ lips over his mouth and skin. He slid his hands up Sirius’ thighs and around to his arse, pulling him in and pushing his own hips out at the same moment, until they were pressed up against each other.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sirius gasped, coming up for air for only a moment before diving back in, and his hips ground down against Remus greedily. There were about a dozen layers of clothing and blanket between them, but Remus could still feel Sirius’ erection pushing against his hip. He pushed back, gasping at the horrible, divine pressure against his own cock. The notebook lay forgotten, pushed off to one side, and there were probably about thirty people watching them, not that Remus could be bothered to check, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t, not with Sirius’ arse flexing under his hands, his mouth breathing hot, careless life into him.

Remus slid his hands up the curve of Sirius’ arse, under the loose shirt, craving the heat of his skin. Sirius' bare lower back was searing against his palms. He remembered the lipstick Sirius had left on his wrists and pressed them onto Sirius’ skin, sliding upwards in firm, parallel stripes. He couldn’t see the marks left behind, but he could feel the slight tackiness of them, and the idea of marking Sirius up in any way made him dizzy, possessive lust racing up and down his spine.

Sirius whimpered into his mouth, one hand coming down to dig under the blankets to find Remus’ arse, anchoring them against each other. Remus gasped, pulling back just far enough to see Sirius’ mouth, debauched and unevenly smeared with black. The artistic perfection was entirely gone, replaced with a smudge, as if the artist had thrown away all his paints in a fit of lust and gone to town with his charcoals instead. It was messy and obscene, the filthiest thing Remus had ever seen, and that was without taking into account that _he_ , himself, had made Sirius this way.

He tilted his head to the side, biting and sucking as he went, leaving a trail of hazy black in his wake, until his face was buried in the same color, in the soft, silky sheet of Sirius’ hair over his shoulder. It was all around him now. It was all he could see, and all he could feel was the pulse of Sirius’ heart under his lips, the heaving of Sirius’ ribs under his palms, the grinding heat of Sirius' cock against his. There was nothing left in him, nothing else he wanted out of life except _this_ , and he filled his mouth with Sirius’ soft skin in a desperate attempt to stifle his moans as he came.

“Oh, oh _fuck_ ,” Sirius hissed, twitching between Remus’ teeth, breath heavy in his ear. He was both shockingly real and oddly two dimensional: black and white smearing over each other into a thousand new colors in the blurred, close-up haze of Remus’ vision as the orgasm rocketed through his veins, faster than blood, faster than nerves or thought, a repeating pulse of ecstasy entirely inappropriate for this public setting. He bit down hard, doing whatever he could to make it appear, on the outside, that this was just making out, not him orgasming after barely three minutes of spontaneous kissing and grinding.

He couldn’t hide it from Sirius, though, and he didn’t particularly want to. He couldn’t go limp either, even though that was exactly what his blissful, thrilled body wanted to do once he started to come down and released Sirius’ neck from the grip of his teeth. That would be a dead giveaway to the people that he _knew_ were still watching them—because how could they not be, with Sirius looking the way he did? Besides, Sirius hadn’t come yet, and Remus was overcome with a desire to make him do just that, a sharp uptick from fantasy into utter demand now that making Sirius come was apparently something he was actually allowed to do.

He kept his face buried in Sirius’ hair but brought one shaking hand around from Sirius’ back to the front of his jeans, just pressing, trying to feel whatever he could without outright stripping Sirius in front of a crowd. He could feel a lot: the stiff outline of Sirius’ cock, the heat of him there, even a certain humidity that hinted at the dripping head beneath.

“Fuck,” Remus mumbled. He swung his head around to find Sirius’ mouth, which was making noises that were definitely more intense than the average person would make when simply making out. Sirius’ lips were slick and trembling against him, messy and deliciously frantic. Remus pressed his fingers to the tip of Sirius’ cock though the fabric, wishing he could touch him properly. Maybe he should try to get Sirius to go upstairs, but when he made a small move to pull away, Sirius’ hand flew down to guide him back, his fingers lined up with Remus’ and pushing in hard.

“Please,” he whispered, voice lost against Remus’ lips to all but the two of them.

“Fuck,” Remus repeated, and he pressed his hand over Sirius’ cock, flipping it around so he could grind against the outline of the head with his palm. He cupped the rest with his fingers and started pressing rhythmically, using the way Sirius shuddered and gasped into his mouth as encouragement. He still had the blanket wrapped around him, and he convinced himself it hid more of what he was doing than it probably actually did.

He spared one glance for the room around them and immediately regretted it. It wasn’t as bad as it might have been. Not _everyone_ was watching them, but most people were, or they were at least pretending to talk amongst themselves or dance, but, really, they were watching. Remus was on fire with mortification, and he ducked down to hide in Sirius’ hair again. Sirius could whimper tellingly all he wanted, that was his problem. Remus would have to just do whatever he could to make Sirius come as quickly and as unobtrusively as possible, and then, _after_ , he would drag Sirius upstairs and make him come again, loud enough to shake the tower.

“You look so fucking hot,” Remus whispered into his ear, realizing a narration of this intention was precisely what was needed to push Sirius over the edge. “I’m going to take you upstairs and strip you in front of the mirror so you can see _exactly_ what you look like. Then I’m going to fuck you so hard that—“

He never got a chance to finish. Sirius spasmed in his arms, a muffled sound echoing through his body as if he was biting down hard on his lip. Remus felt his cock pulsing under their fingers, and even though he couldn’t see it, just feeling it, just _imagining_ it, made him moan into Sirius’ ear. He dug his other hand into Sirius’ shoulder blade in encouragement, feeling the stickiness of sweat and the shuddering of Sirius’ heartbeat, then a sudden relaxing of tension. There was a sharp increase in the dampness of the front of Sirius’ jeans as well, as what had been released slowly soaked through the thick material.

Sirius clearly had not thought through how to keep the fact of their orgasms secret, as Remus had, because he went limp and soft in Remus’ arms in a very telling way a second later. Remus stifled a groan at the feel of him and pulled Sirius’ head off his shoulder to kiss him some more, both so he could maintain the pretense for their audience, and so he could feel the shaky bliss in Sirius’ lips. Sirius released his death-grip on Remus’ hand and slid his fingers up Remus’ shirt instead. Remus shuddered at the trembling, soft touch skating over his chest.

After a while, Sirius pulled back enough to smile down at him, the euphoria there marred in the most perfect way possible by the state of his lipstick.

“Well then,” he said quietly. “Now I know what it takes to get into your pants, Moons. Not much…just a bit of slutty lipstick.”

“You didn’t actually get into my pants,” Remus pointed out. “And I wouldn’t discredit the rest of your outfit.” He slid his hand around and through the large, revealing sides of Sirius’ shirt in demonstration.

“You may be fully clothed for now, but I think I’ve got pulling you in the bag,” Sirius said smugly, “considering what you just said about stripping me in front of the mirror and fucking me and all. You better not have been joking, because we are _definitely_ doing that. You’ve got my black all over you, you know. It’s fucking wild.”

“I know.” Remus licked his lips, feeling the faint, creamy smears. “Your look is ruined.”

“Hmm, ruined,” Sirius repeated, mouth moving around the word slowly, as if he liked the feel of it on his tongue. “How about we go upstairs, and I put it back on properly, and then I suck your cock in front of that mirror you were talking about? Then you can fuck me, and you can see what I look like when I’m _really_ ruined.”

He ran the tip of one finger over Remus’ nipple under his shirt as he said this, eyelids lowering lustfully at the way Remus gasped and bit his lip. He dove down for another kiss next, and he didn’t stop until Remus was fully hard again and ready to just throw up his hands and fuck Sirius right here in the common room. Which didn’t take long, actually.

“But first…” Sirius let Remus’ lips go at last and flipped himself off of Remus’ lap, smirking at the way Remus scrambled to rearrange the blankets over his crotch now that part of his cover was gone. He leaned over Remus’ body, letting his arm and shoulder brush against Remus’ chest as he flipped back to the page of the notebook with the lipstick bet on it. When he saw the number of bets there, and all the odds, he laughed loudly and turned to face the crowd of students who, with a universally dismal air, were waiting for the bet to be officially called. James, in particular, had the sullen look of someone who had been played, which reinforced Remus' theory that Sirius had enlisted him in betting zero. Sirius just grinned at all of them, utterly unrepentant. “Pay _up_ , motherfuckers!”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos, part of this complete breakfast! <3
> 
> [Hit me up on tumblr ](xinasvoice.tumblr.com)for riveting updates about my slow but steady writing. Or, you know, to chat. <3


End file.
